


Into the Lights of Home

by m_class



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Fireworks, Gen, Originally Posted to Tumblr, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_class/pseuds/m_class
Summary: Snapshots of Voyager's final descent towards the waiting lights of San Francisco.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on July 4th in response to the prompt, "Give me your Voyager firework-related headcanons."
> 
> While this isn't a song-inspired fic per se, I was listening to "Firecracker" by the Wailin' Jennys the night I wrote this, and it's now forever linked to Voyager's homecoming in my mind. I'll just call it this fic's recommended accompaniment. :)

After years of war, Federation resources are strained, but beacons of hope are also few and far between, and fiercely seized upon by the Federation and Starfleet brass. In the day it takes the USS Voyager to arrive in San Francisco after first bursting into the Alpha Quadrant, family members and friends of the crew are rushed in from around the solar system, and as soon as the essential facts of the journey are confirmed and the health of the crew and structural integrity of their vessel is verified, the news is spread on all public channels.

Come nightfall, Federations citizens line the streets of the city. Parents with children on their shoulders jostle alongside retired ‘Fleet officers and giggling cadets being interviewed by reporters running stories on What Voyager Means To Us.

Far above them, Captain Janeway sits in her command chair, eyes fixed on the blue sphere that becomes a blue rectangle filling the viewscreen, then becomes…a patchwork quilt. Cloudcover, dark blotches, clusters of lights. Night. Cities shining and twinkling across the the continent of North America.

Every so often, she murmurs a quiet order to Tom, although for the last few minutes it’s been a periodic repetition of “Steady as she goes.” Tom, in a uniform that badly needs a fresh-up and hair that could use a good comb, is wearing the same grin he’s worn for the entire last hour since he returned to the bridge from sickbay to take back the helm for Voyager’s final descent. Rubbing his own eyes in the chair beside Janeway, Chakotay finds himself heavily suspecting that that grin has very little to do with their geographical location at all.

Although no engineering expertise is required at this juncture, B'Elanna Torres is sitting at the engineering station, a proud, exhausted queen garbed half in uniform, half in sweatpants. In her arms, she holds a diminutive visitor to the bridge who would never have been permitted there, for safety’s sake, had she been born only one day before and a few tens of thousands of lightyears away. Miral waves a hand from inside the blanket, and for the first time ever on Voyager’s bridge, Harry Kim feels a lump rise in his throat. He’s quite competent at not letting emotion interfere with duty. But now it isn’t an interference. It’s a celebration. He lets a broad grin burst in his face, laughing silently at himself. Home--home!--is growing larger and larger on the viewscreen, yet whenever Harry glances up from his console, he can barely bring himself to glance at it, eyes glued instead to the other miracle in his line of vision.

Miral’s arm waves again, and Harry tears up in earnest this time, rapidly blinking the moisture from his eyes to clear his view of the ops station. He thinks of B'Elanna throwing herself at the door of the Ocampan medical facility; of Tom, eyes hard and flinty, mouthing off in the mess hall about not being the kind of man Harry should befriend.

And now here they all are.

At the console behind the captain's chair, Seven of Nine surveys the land of her parents’ origin. She does not feel any connection to this place. But her connection to the Voyager collective runs deep and true, and looking slowly from one crewmember to the next, she finds she feels an intense satisfaction that the members of her true family have finally reached the place they’ve yearned for for so long.

Tuvok finds his thoughts have turned–-quite logically, he feels–-to his coming reunion with his family. While not allowing himself to become distracted from his station–-not that any tactical threats are anticipated, but it would be illogical and a grave dereliction of duty to let his attention waver-–he glances to the only member of his family who has not been waiting for him in the Alpha Quadrant. Kathryn Janeway’s face betrays little emotion, but he knows that beneath the composed captain’s mask, her heart is breaking and knitting itself back together each instant they move closer and closer to the lights.

“Doctor to the Captain.”

Janeway taps her combadge. “Janeway here.“

"Just checking in on our newest crewmember,” the Doctor says in the burbling tone of voice they’ve only heard from him a handful of times. Chakotay ducks his head to hide a grin.

“She’s well,” Janeway says, voice rough. “Everything’s all right here.”

A burst of color from below. Buildings, the Golden Gate Bridge, growing larger and larger. “Fireworks,” mutters Tom, an incredulous laugh in his voice.

“Everything’s all right here,” Janeway repeats, to the EMH, to the bridge, to the starship and the planet beneath it. “We’re going home.”


End file.
